On the day before Christ traveled to the Earth
His Father asked of him the hardest thing
He’d done. “You see,” He said, “the mirth
We hear from time to time, the joyous ring
of laughter, children’s voices, songs of praise—
these celebrations we desire for them
are what we long for. Every time they raise
their voices to exalt, to touch our hem
in solemn prayer to plead a desperate case
it pleases us to comfort or restore
good health to someone’s reverent up-turned face
or guide him where he hasn’t been before.”

Then Jesus said, “I like those very much.
I only wish we saw much more concern
among them for those souls so few will touch.
Too many have a great deal more to learn.”

And they talked on, recounting all the ills
and oversights and gluttony and greed,
as well as how hate maims or simply kills
the hope of underprivileged in need.

“You see, my Son, the world has drifted far
from what I planned. Free will has been abused
so much that humankind has crossed the bar
and drifted out of reach, a gift misused.
So now I need to send you down to save
My work and give mankind a way back home.
It won’t be fun, you know. I cannot pave
the way for You. You’ll sometimes feel alone.
And worse than that, the people you’d expect
to lend an ear, to hear the message clear—
they’ll be the ones most likely to defect
for silver, status--things they hold most dear.”

“I understand,” our Savior said, “the way
will be quite hard. But if it reconciles
humanity to what You had in mind I’ll pay
the price and walk those many blistered miles.
I see quite clearly there’s enormous need
and only I can close the lonely space
by offering a painful loving deed;
the means for all to see Your Holy Face.
I know we’ll share our thoughts throughout those years.”

His Father said at length, “And when you’re done
I’ll welcome you back home and dry your tears—
and then we’ll count the many souls you’ve won.”